


Quiet Breaths

by WitchoftheWaste



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, At least a month post Kings Rising cause Damen is fully healed, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Kings Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchoftheWaste/pseuds/WitchoftheWaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worrying about ruling two unruly kingdoms keeps Damen up at night, Laurent's use of the term 'barbarian' is questioned and maybe feelings get in the way a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> These books took over my life and I had to write something for them. As always, this work is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Damen loved how Laurent looked when he was sleeping. His face, normally so controlled, relaxed completely. His mouth, which was mostly pressed into a thin line, was slightly open, one of his hands curled on the pillow next to him. He had flung an arm over Damen's chest in his sleep, the weight of it warm and reassuring. It did strange things to Damen's heart.

Damen looked back up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His body was tired, but his mind was active with worry. Ruling Vere and Akielos together had been a romantic notion in his head for a long time, but the reality of it was filled with painfully boring administrative decisions and sleepless nights. Both countries were quick to take offence, even quicker to find fault. The tasks of abolishing slavery in Akielos, dispersing with pets and their contracts in Vere only made it worse. The kyroi did not want the extra expense of hiring workers for the famed Akielon silver mines and olive orchards, and the Veretian nobles weren't too keen on the idea of having to use charm to win bed partners. The two countries were like squabbling old ladies, or- 

When Damen was young, one of the great granaries in Ios fell down. No one was quite sure how it happened (although there were many salacious rumours), but Theomedes had insisted that the young sons of the kyroi - and Damen - help the townspeople clear up the mess of heavy stone from one of the nearby horse pens. It was supposed to teach them discipline. Unfortunately, it had lead to a lot of boyish posturing, as Nikandros and Damen in particular competed over who could lift the largest rocks. Damen smiled at the memory. They had been right nuisances to the people actually trying to get something done. Now, the people of Akielos and Vere were just like Nikandros and Damen had been, and Damen was frustrated and tired. 

'Worrying again, my barbarian?'

Damen started. He hadn't even noticed Laurent shifting awake. 

'You know, it's actually the Veretians who are barbaric,' he said sleepily. 

'Wait, don't tell me. You are all offended that we don't adore bastards?' 

Damen laughed. 'No. Although that is a little odd.' He put his hands behind his head. 

Laurent raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for Damen to elaborate. He didn't. There was a pause, before Laurent rolled his eyes, curiosity winning out. 'What, then?'

Damen smiled. 'It's the trousers. True men wear chitons; only a milksop would wear trousers.'

He relished the slight look of surprised amusement that flitted across Laurent's eyes. 'You're saying that those tiny dresses you wear are more _masculine?'_

Damen frowned. 'They're not dresses. Chitons. But yes, they are. The trousers, the furs, the tall boots... These are all signs of the Veretian inability to weather the elements.' He didn't say it harshly. 'An Akielion could survive the cold of the mountains in nothing but one of your "tiny dresses" and a pair of sandals.'

With a smile born of exasperation, Laurent closed his eyes for a moment. 'This is your attempt to make me wear the garment of a true man more often, isn't it? Do you really think the wine pitchers of the palace would survive?'

Damen grinned. 'I could always move onto the wine cups, plates, maybe even a vase or two.'

'So was the trouser story just a fabrication then?'

Trust Laurent's mind to work that way. 'Oh no. Trousers really are barbaric.'

The silence came naturally. A perfect, joyful pause. They smiled at each other, and Damen tried hard to hold onto the feeling, aware that it wasn't always like this, these still, light-hearted moments.

'Do you really think,' he said, absent-mindedly tracing a pattern on Laurent's chest with a finger tip, 'that there are any wine cups left after the last time you drank with Makedon? I seem to recall a lot of objects being smashed. Why were those cups so objectionable anyway?'

Laurent gave him a sharp look. 'I didn't break anything in front of anyone but you.'

This time the silence was more intimate. Damen leant forward until his breath ghosted over Laurent's ear, and he couldn't hold back a smile as he heard Laurent's sharp intake of breath. 'I prefer it when you don't need alcohol to relax in front of me.' He trailed a hand down Laurent's arm, dark skin against pale.

Laurent looked up at him through his lashes, and Damen felt a warm furl of happiness in his stomach.

* * *

:Later, with the sheets pushed down around them, Laurent turned away and said, so quietly Damen almost didn't hear him, 'I want to talk about Auguste.'

Damen wished he could see Laurent's face, wished he could read the emotion in it, but all he said was, 'You don't have to-'

'I want to.'

Damen stayed silent. 

'You would have got on so well,' Laurent continued. 'You would have been naive and trusting together.' Damen heard the wry smile, rather than saw it. There was another pause. 'You know, I couldn't pronounce Auguste, when I was young.'

Damen was startled by the admission. Laurent so rarely talked about the boy he had been before Auguste's death . 'What did you call him?'

A pause. 'Goose.' Damen felt Laurent holding himself carefully.

The image of a tiny Laurent, perhaps with a slight lisp, trailing after his 'Goose' was so at odds with Laurent's cool demeanour that Damen had to close his eyes in futile anger for a moment. He thought of Laurent's nightmares, the way Laurent's hands clawed at the sheets, and he had to forcibly relax his own hands, refocusing on Laurent's quiet breaths.

Damen didn't say anything. He just let the fond smile that burned at the edges of his mouth take over his face. He waited until Laurent turned to look at him. Laurent's face was carefully blank, the kind of blankness that made Damen's ache to hold Laurent in his arms and tell him how much he loved him. But instead, he stayed still, waiting as one does with a nervous animal.

He watched Laurent take in his smile, watched him instinctively search Damen's face for signs of insincerity or contempt. And Damen watched Laurent finally realise that Damen's smile was genuine, and he felt his stomach ache with love when Laurent gave him a shy smile of his own.

This was worth all the petty politics and fiddly paperwork in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested, the barbarians in trousers thing is an Ancient Greek idea about the Persians. Also, the silver mines are Athenian. Anyway, I'll stop being a classicist now.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please take the time to leave kudos and/or comments. They always brighten my day!


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